The Big Fix
by Ed Lacy
On the night Irish
Tommy Cork's murder was planned, nothing very much out of the ordinary
happened. Tommy was in the ring, taking a pasting—as usual. Back to the
ropes, almost sitting on the second strand, Tommy crouched, gloved hands
up in front of his face like a leather fence. He was fighting a strong
youngster who was now whaling away with both hands in a moment of wild
enthusiasm. Most of his blows were blocked, or ducked by Tommy's weaving
head, but those few that didn't miss landed with loud thud sounds on
the kidneys, head, or in the stomach, visibly shaking up the pale "old
man."
Tommy Cork's murder was planned, nothing very much out of the ordinary
happened. Tommy was in the ring, taking a pasting—as usual. Back to the
ropes, almost sitting on the second strand, Tommy crouched, gloved hands
up in front of his face like a leather fence. He was fighting a strong
youngster who was now whaling away with both hands in a moment of wild
enthusiasm. Most of his blows were blocked, or ducked by Tommy's weaving
head, but those few that didn't miss landed with loud thud sounds on
the kidneys, head, or in the stomach, visibly shaking up the pale "old
man."